Human Error
by World'sOnlyConsultingTimeLady
Summary: The last thing Dean Winchester expects to find weeks after returning from Purgatory without Castiel is the angel himself, stripped of his grace. As Sam and Dean deal with the complications of hunting with a fallen angel, Dean Winchester is forced to reevaluate his feelings for Castiel. Eventual Destiel, with a hint of Sabriel.
1. Chapter 1

**For my dear friend, who inspired me to write this story. Thank you for putting up with my ridiculousness and numerous fandom rants. Still not sorry about converting you into a fan girl for three fandoms, including Supernatural, though ;) **

* * *

_Bright light blinded Dean as his hand clenched around the angel's, tightening his grip. He'd meant it when he said that they were all going to get out of Purgatory. No one was getting left behind, least of all Castiel. _

_"Dean!" Castiel shouted as his hand slipped from Dean's. The white light encompassed the screaming hunter for a brief moment before it was gone. Dean stood in the middle of a forest on Earth, tall trees and leafy canopies obscuring his view of his surroundings, almost exactly as Purgatory was, except there weren't hordes of monsters ruthlessly hunting them, the world wasn't gray and bleak, and he was alone. _

One minute, Dean was trapped in the familiar memory-turned-nightmare and the next he was in a dingy motel bed, disoriented and breathing heavily as he re-familiarized himself with his surroundings.

"Dean? You okay?" Sam asked, his voice lacking the roughness of sleep.

"Yeah," Dean replied. His breathing slowed slightly, though he couldn't stop thinking about his nightmare, couldn't get the thought of Castiel trapped in Purgatory out of his mind. Why hadn't he been able to keep a tighter grip on Cas? If he'd just held on a moment longer, they wouldn't be separated. Well, not this drastically, at least. Dean still would've been able to communicate with his angel; now, he couldn't even do that much.

Sam cleared his throat. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about?" Dean replied as he glanced at the widow. The image of the angel in question stared back at Dean, pitiful yet alive, soaked to the bone by the thunderstorm. Lightning highlighted Castiel's rugged features momentarily before plunging the angel into the darkness of night.

Sam sighed. "You've been having nightmares for weeks, and each time you're yelling for Castiel. What... What happened, Dean? What happened in Purgatory? Did Cas..." Sam trailed off as Dean left his bed and moved toward the window. Castiel vanished as Dean's hand touched the cool glass, the angel merely a product of his screwed-up mind. A never-ending reminder of yet another failure.

Dean felt Sam's gaze bore into him, compelling his elder brother to answer the question despite his reluctance to comply.

"Is Cas okay?"

"I don't know," Dean replied. His voice shook and his eyes stung, but he suppressed the urge. He refused to cry in front of his brother. "I don't know. I tried to get him out, tried to get us all out, but I failed. Benny and I searched for a year for Cas so we could all escape, but when push came to shove, I wasn't strong enough."

Dean heard Sam leave the bed and walk up behind him. Once the words were out, more kept coming, bursting from Dean's lips unwillingly. "And I keep seein' him _everywhere, _but it's impossible, right? Because he's stuck in Purgatory, because I couldn't get him out."

"You just gotta get over it, Dean," Sam said when Dean fell silent. "Obsessing over the past won't change it. It'll just make things worse."

"I know," Dean replied. "I need some air."

Sam sighed and returned to his bed. Dean scurried out of the constricting motel room, exhaling as he closed the door gently behind him and made his way to his car.

Once Dean was inside his Impala, he dialed Benny's number.

"What can I do for you, brother?"

"Was it really impossible for Cas to escape Purgatory?"

"It was never impossible; if anything, it would be easier for him. Angels are creatures of heaven, and Purgatory ain't meant for holy creatures. It wouldn't have been as easy for him to leave as you, since you're human and the portals are specifically for humans, but it wouldn't have been much more challenging than getting you out," Benny drawled.

"Thanks, Benny," Dean replied.

"Before you go, Dean, you should probably stop by Bobby's place. I thought I saw something rooting around the place, but I couldn't get very close to properly check it out."

"Thanks, Benny," Dean repeated.

"No problem, brother."

Dean hung up and sighed, resting his head against the headrest. Anger and exhaustion swelled within the hunter, thoughts of Bobby and Castiel overwhelming his mind. He didn't want to deal with either of them at the moment, yet he also wanted nothing more than to see them again, properly. To hear Bobby's gruff voice and see Castiel tilt his head in confusion at something the hunter said.

He didn't want to return to Bobby's home, a place filled with memories of both men, but honor and anger demanded that he visit. Nothing was going to defile their home of sorts without getting an ass kicking from Dean Winchester.

* * *

Three hours later found the Winchester brothers on the road, Dean behind the wheel of his Impala and Sam fast asleep in the passenger's seat.

Dean had showered for an hour after returning to their room, standing under the hot water in silence as he pushed thoughts of Castiel and Purgatory to the back of his mind. When he'd exited the steaming room, neither brother brought up the nightmare or the angel again. Conversation had awkwardly began, though it carefully avoided previous topics. They'd merely decided to leave after Sam showered. Dean had explained Benny's call, suggesting that they visit Bobby's place immediately, and his younger brother had agreed.

Neither of them were particularly eager to return to the house, though they weren't going to refuse merely out of discomfort. Sure the memories were painful, but Dean had dealt with, and was currently dealing with, worse, and besides, it would feel good to kick some ass. Maybe afterwards, they could rest in an actual home rather than a cheap motel. Dean missed the days where they stayed with Bobby, living and researching with their father-figure, only leaving for hunts and to stock up on the necessities. He missed the brief period of time where they didn't have to be on the road constantly.

It would be their first time properly visiting the house since Bobby had died and his ghost was released. Perhaps they could make it their home; Dean didn't think Bobby would mind if they did that, so long as no major renovations were made.

As if Dean would consider that.

A figure moved in the trees lining the empty two-lane road, drawing Dean's mind from thoughts of Bobby's home. The Impala sped by the man, but Dean had seen him as clearly as he saw Sam beside him. It had been Castiel walking through the forest, clothed in the grimy clothes he'd worn in Purgatory. His face was bearded and eyes exhausted as they met Dean's through the windshield.

It couldn't be...

No. It wasn't. Dean chided himself for nearly falling for his hallucinations yet again.

The image vanished, and Dean returned his attention to the road ahead.

The silence quickly grew uncomfortable as thoughts he'd pushed away and done his best to eradicate rebelliously resurfaced in the chaotic waters of his mind. Damning the consequences of waking his younger brother, Dean turned on his music, blasting it at full volume as he sped down the road.

Sam jerked awake with a curse, but other than that, he remained blessedly silent.

Dean tapped the wheel to the Bon Jovi song currently eradicating the previous silence. Memories of Sam belting the lyrics at the top of his lungs occupied Dean's mind, and he welcomed them. The left side of his mouth twisted into a grin, his nostalgic joy manifested though hidden from Sam's eyes. His brother's lips twitched as he recognized the song immediately.

Castiel's Purgatory-corrupted figure emerged from the side of the road once more, involuntarily snagging Dean's attention. His head turned toward the angel, despite being fully aware of the image existing merely in his mind, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam glance at the very spot the angel occupied. The younger Winchester's attention rested on Castiel for barely a second, confirming Cas' nonexistence.

Disappointment flooded Dean. There had been a sliver of his mind that had hoped he was wrong, and, even though he wasn't aware of its existence until it was crushed, the pain was excruciating.

Dean thought he heard Sam mutter something; however, when he listened carefully to his younger brother's voice, he was further surprised to find that Sam was humming along to the music.

The elder hunter pushed all thoughts aside and focused entirely on the road and his brother's voice, drawing comfort from his brother's presence.

Their relationship might've been strained, but at least Sam was alive and by Dean's side.

* * *

As Dean pulled onto the familiar property, memories swarmed his mind. It was painful to stand where Bobby had once stood, to visit the home without seeing Bobby or hearing his gruff voice calling out for the 'idjits' to carry out a random task or do some digging, either of the metaphorical or literal sort.

Dean parked the car and hesitated, Sam waiting patiently for his brother. After a moment of silence and bated breath, Dean stepped out of the Impala. He closed the door gently behind him, Sam mirroring his movements.

The elder hunter heard a familiar rustling, and he inclined his head toward the sound. He caught a quick flash of a familiar tan coat darting toward the house.

A flash of shame flickered in Dean, and he suffocated it without a second thought. It was annoying to continue hallucinating about Castiel, but he didn't know how to stop. He'd never been so caught up over anyone but Sam before, and it frightened him.

Then again, Dean really shouldn't have been surprised that the angel could drive him crazy despite their separation. He had grown used to Castiel eliciting discomfort.

He didn't mind; the angel's quirkiness was hardly a problem to Dean. It was entertaining and intriguing, a rarity to find innocence in one so old. It shouldn't have been surprising, his innocence due to his existence as a celestial being; however, the angelic brothers and sisters Dean had met were far from innocent.

Uriel was a two-faced bag of dicks; Raphael was a control-freak. Neither of them seemed the sort to possess innocence. Anna certainly hadn't been innocent, and the thought of Gabriel being innocent was impossible to imagine. Zachariah was a mountain of dicks, Lucifer a sadistic douchebag, but Castiel?

Castiel was, in Dean's mind, the epitome of innocence. When the hunter thought of the angel in such a light, he didn't think of the fights he'd experienced with the angel, the things he'd done, good and bad, or even the angel's status as a being of Heaven.

When Dean thought of Castiel and innocence, he thought of failed brothel visits, pizza men and hamburgers, crappy interrogation skills, "rusty" "people skills" in general, and of faith and loyalty. Castiel always had good intentions, despite his mistakes.

It was funny how death and absence both slid rose-colored glasses over situations. All Dean could do in that moment was stand and stare at the place where he'd thought he saw Castiel's coat, mind overwhelmed with positive thoughts of the angel.

Sam had moved past his brother and into the house. Dean shook his head and strode up to the house, pausing at the doorway.

_"What're we doin' today, Bobby?" Dean asked as he stood beside the door, eyes fixed on the older man. _

_Bobby held a strange mitt in one hand and a ball in another, items Dean had seen on TV or in passing, but never like this. _

_"We're going out for a little while," Bobby patiently replied as he walked up to the boy. _

_"What about Sammy?" _

_"He'll be fine; he's just sleepin'. Come on, boy, let's go." _

_"Okay," Dean replied with a smile as he ran outside. _

It was the first and last time he'd played catch with Bobby, but it was one of his favorite childhood memories. Dean pushed the memory away and pressed forward, focusing on the possible intruder.

As he stepped into the home, nostalgia overwhelmed the hunter, despite his efforts to ignore it. Inconsequential moments previously forgotten reemerged; previous hunts and quiet nights alike arose in Dean's mind, filling the rooms with life as every object seemed to hold significance to the past. Shaking his head, he examined the living room carefully. Nothing seemed to have been displaced, nor were there signs of being an intruder. Perhaps Benny had-

A loud thud echoed through the house, followed by a surprised grunt, and Dean sprang into action.

"Sammy!" The elder brother barked as he ran toward the sound. Flinging open the kitchen door, he found his younger brother frozen in surprise, a book on the floor beside his feet.

The object of Sam's bewilderment stepped forward, and Dean clenched his jaw to keep it from dropping.

Castiel stood in the center of the kitchen with a weary grin, his eyes resting heavily on Dean, his brother disregarded almost entirely. For a moment, the elder Winchester believed himself to be hallucinating, but one look at his brother confirmed the angel's existence.

Sam stood frozen, clearly distracted by his conflicting thoughts, the urge of a friend to confirm Castiel's existence through words or action, and the urge of a hunter to assess the situation, to test whether Castiel was truly the angel they knew and cared about.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Dean wasn't stunted by his confliction. He strode forward, channeling his conflicted emotions into determined professionalism. He splashed holy water on Castiel and carried out numerous tests on the intruder. Dean refused to welcome Castiel properly without complete assurance that he was dealing with the Cas he knew. Avoiding meeting familiar deep-blue eyes, Dean focused on anything but Castel's face.

Sam stayed behind Dean, and Cas underwent Dean's testing without protest. It was soon confirmed that this was indeed Castiel standing in Bobby's kitchen, though Dean froze in horror when, after running a silver blade across Castiel's arm, the creature under evaluation flinched.

It wasn't a severe reaction, not one that indicated his being a monster, but it sent shivers dancing down Dean's spine nonetheless. An angel wouldn't have reacted at all to such a miniscule injury.

An idea came to mind, an answer to the unasked question that pained Dean. Forcing himself to meet Castiel's eyes, Dean watched carefully as he dug his fingernails into his arm. The cerulean eyes widened in discomfort and shame, confirming Dean's theory.

"You're human," Dean murmured as he released the former angel from his grasp.

Castiel nodded slowly, unsurprised by the startling confusion. As Dean registered this, he noticed the clothes Castiel wore, unfamiliar, ordinary jeans and a hoodie, unblemished save for Dean's tests. Clothes that definitely weren't from Bobby's house.

Anger swelled within Dean. "How long have you been out of Purgatory, Cas?" He snarled as he backed away from the former angel.

"Dean..."

"How long, Castiel?" Sam interjected as he moved to stand beside Dean.

"Two weeks," Castiel muttered as his gaze fell to the floor. "I appeared in the middle of nowhere, and I thought this would be the best place to come."

"Why didn't you just-" Dean's question was interrupted by a low rumble. Castiel sighed and glared at the ground, and the rumbling broke through the awkward silence once again. It startled the hunter slightly as he identified the sound as the former angel's stomach growling.

"Hungry?" Sam asked, and Castiel nodded. "I'll go get us something to eat," the younger Winchester continued as he opened his hand. Dean dropped his keys on the outstretched palm.

"Hey, could you grab us burgers from that one place we went to that one time? The one with the awesome fries?"

Muttering a snide comment about Dean's choice in food, Sam left the two alone in the house. An awkward silence settled over the two, interrupted only by the sound of the Impala's engine as it started and faded away, the comforting rumbling lowering as the distance between his Baby and the house grew.

Dean shuffled awkwardly and coughed, words escaping him as he stared at the now-human Cas. Anger and confusion dominated his thoughts, robbing him of the ability to properly understand the situation.

"So, uh, two weeks, huh?" Dean asked after an awkward pause. "Do you remember where you landed?"

Castiel shook his head. "I only paid attention to where I was when it applied to getting back here. I thought that once I arrived here, things would get easier. I didn't expect to see you guys so soon, though."

"You didn't want to meet us yet, did you?" Castiel fell silent, answering Dean's question wordlessly. Dean's stomach dropped; he hadn't anticipated Castiel not wanting to see them, but it made sense, didn't it?

Why would the angel want to see the person who couldn't rescue him from Purgatory, who, after promising over and over again that the three of them would escape together, abandoned him?

"I didn't want to burden you," Castiel explained, finally meeting Dean's eyes. "A fallen angel would do more harm than good."

"You're not a burden, Cas; you were never a burden!"

"Oh really?" Castiel snapped. "If I was never a burden, then why did you call me a 'baby in a trench coat' the last time I couldn't access my powers? Then, I was merely shut off from them. My powers aren't blocked, Dean; they're _gone._"

"When you've got a problem, you come to us, got it? Regardless of what it is or what has happened in the past. We're your family, and we'll help you through this," Dean replied, stepping forward.

"It's permanent, Dean. The Leviathan stripped me of my grace and abandoned me; I can't go back to being an angel, not properly. Not without stealing another's grace, and that isn't a permanent cure."

"Then we'll just have to show you how to be human," Dean replied.

Castiel's defensive posture sagged slightly, his eyes widening in surprise. "You're going to teach me how to be human?"

"I don't see why not; we're not all that bad. Believe it or not, there are perks to being human."

Castiel grinned, happiness like nothing Dean had ever seen him express before shining from his eyes. It took Dean by surprise to see the former angel so emotional, but he supposed he'd have to get used to it. Dean and Sam were used to suppressing, or at least controlling their emotions; Castiel wasn't, not like this, not as a human.

Dean found it difficult to return the grin, though his inner turmoil appeared to be well camouflaged, as Castiel's happiness didn't falter.

It didn't make sense to Dean, why the Leviathan had stripped Castiel of his grace, nor did he understand why Castiel was so open with him. After everything, after Dean failed him like he failed everyone he ever cared about, how could Cas just stand there, smiling at Dean like he'd just given him the greatest Christmas present?

Castiel's smile faltered. "What's wrong, Dean?"

"Nothing, Cas," Dean lied. Annoyance laced with a strange sense of pride shot through the hunter in response to the realization. It was strangely reassuring that the former angel was still so in-tune with his charge despite the drastic changes both of them had experienced.

Castiel frowned and opened his mouth, ready no doubt to call Dean out on his lie, when Sam barged into the house.

The younger Winchester flashed a quick, somewhat smug, grin at the two and set the plastic bag on the table, amused by their close proximity. He sat and began to remove his food from the bag, raising his eyebrows at the two men when they continued to stand and stare at each other as though Sam hadn't entered the room.

"Are you two just going to stand there staring at each other, or are you going to eat the greasy sludge you requested, Dean?"

"Did you get me pie?" Dean asked as he sat at the table, Castiel close behind. The hunter pulled out the remaining food, Sam already digging into his girly salad, and was pleased to find that, accompanying three burgers, was a big slice of apple pie.

"Rule number one, Cas," Dean said as he opened the box containing the pie. "Pie is the best food you will ever taste in your entire life."


	2. Chapter 2

"Dean?" Castiel asked in the middle of eating his burger. "Are you alright?"

The brothers paused as all attention focused completely on Dean, who fidgeted awkwardly under their scrutiny.

"Fine," Dean replied, all but choking out the word. He tried to smile, perhaps that would mask the way his voice wavered in disagreement, but it came out as a grimace rather than a grin. It was clear that neither Sam nor Cas believed him, though they dropped the subject, Sam with a slow nod and a once-over that screamed _this is not over, _and Castiel with hesitant glances that didn't subside throughout the rest of the uncomfortable meal.

In retrospect, Dean should've anticipated an acknowledgement of his strange behavior. There weren't very many ways to avoid eating a sandwich subtly, after all. Guilt added itself to the noxious mix of emotions churning in him as he stared at his barely-touched meal, years of instinctual scrounging for Sam berating him for being so wasteful.

It wasn't as though he'd ordered the food purely to dismiss it, though. Dean was kicking himself for suggesting the one burger place in the area Sam knew he couldn't refuse, merely because he'd heard Cas' stomach growl.

Castiel reached across the table and took Dean's untouched food. The former angel seemed to be in his own little world as he inhaled the burger and carefully sampled the pie. There was no hesitation in Cas' movements as he broke a generous piece of pie off of the slice and brought it to his mouth, just innocent anticipation. There was complete faith in the hunter, something Dean didn't know how to handle. It absolutely repulsed him to think that the creature completely trusted the thing that had betrayed him, yet indignation was equally strong within the hunter. Accusations of betrayal were more numerous with the angel, who had destroyed Heaven, unleashed Leviathan, and tried to be God; why should Dean feel so guilty? Wasn't it Castiel's fault they were in Purgatory in the first place?

Castiel groaned, and the Winchester's wandering gazes immediately snapped to the distressed new-human. Dean made to get out of his seat, but Castiel motioned for him to sit. The former angel clutched his stomach, refusing to look at the food as he stifled another groan.

"You full?" Dean asked as he forced rising bile downward.

The former angel nodded sullenly, blinking up at the elder brother as he stood and motioned for Cas to do the same.

"You should probably get some sleep," Dean continued as he led the angel away from the table, Sam's attentive gaze fixed on the pair. Rather than give in to his ever-present discomfort, he ignored his brother's attention in favor of focusing on the task at hand. "I just got here, and I'm exhausted, and I drove here. I'm used to it; you aren't."

"I'm not all that tired," Castiel argued. "My stomach just aches."

"Well, resting will help with that too. You're human, and things are different with us. You'll be far weaker as a mortal than you were as an angel."

"I know, Dean, and I've accepted it," Cas murmured as Dean opened the door to the guest bedroom. The hunter didn't stray from the door as the former angel lumbered toward the bed and ran a hand over the soft comforter in complete fascination. He seemed perfectly content with his newfound humanity.

"You need anything?" Dean awkwardly asked after a motionless pause, both men staring at each other, Castiel's hand frozen on the bed.

Castiel shook his head and slipped under the covers without removing any clothing. The former angel stared at the ceiling with a strange intensity, as though demanding sleep from the powers that be, which, for all the hunter knew, was what he was doing.

It was then that Dean realized that Cas probably hadn't properly slept since he arrived fully human. Ignoring his discomfort and mounting self-deprication, the hunter strode forward until he reached the bed, Cas' attention focused entirely on him rather than the ceiling.

"You probably shouldn't sleep in those clothes; it's less comfortable," Dean explained as he crouched beside the bed and reached underneath. He pulled a long box out from under the bed and opened the cover, revealing a stash of clean, comfortable clothes. "These should work," Dean said as he selected a worn AC/DC shirt and grey sweatpants.

The hunter handed the former angel the items, both fascinated: Dean by Castiel's bemused and awed stare at the clothes, and Castiel at the action itself. Dean didn't understand his expression until their eyes met, green eyes confronting shining, gratified blue. The hunter blushed and turned away from him, giving the man privacy as he heard the rustling of sheets and clothes falling away from pale, smooth skin...

"Thank you," Cas said, his voice roughened further with exhaustion. It sent shivers dancing down Dean's spine, and he was thankful that he was facing away from him.

"You're welcome," Dean replied as he grasped the door knob. "Call me if you need anything."

"I will," He heard the former angel murmur as he stepped into the hallway and gently closed the door behind him.

Dean paused outside the door for a moment, listening to the faint sounds of Cas reentering the bed before returning to the kitchen.

Sam was toying absentmindedly with his rabbit food, though upon Dean's entry, his head whipped up and his mouth opened as Dean braced himself. "What is wrong with you and Cas?" The younger brother asked as he stood from the table. "You were weird earlier, and don't tell me you're okay, because I know you're not, and Cas knows it too."

"Sam, leave it alone. It doesn't concern you."

"Yeah Dean, it does. Cas is human, and that worries me as much as the next guy, and I want to help him too, but he's my friend too. I have every right to worry about him as you do."

"No you don't," Dean snapped. "You weren't in Purgatory with us; you don't understand what we went through."

"If Purgatory strengthened the bond between you two so much, then why are _you _the one acting repulsed by Cas' humanity? You couldn't even handle him _eating _with us. How does that qualify as a deeper understanding?"

Dean stormed away, unable to channel his fury into words. He couldn't handle his brother's presence, couldn't handle anything about the situation. All he wanted was to be on the road without this crap. No angels, no apocalypse, just the seemingly hopeless hunt for their dad. Why couldn't life be simple like that again?

"Profound bond, my ass," Sam muttered.

That was the final fucking straw. Fury tinged Dean's' vision blood red as he surged forward, catching his younger brother unaware as he pinned him against the wall. How _dare _he insult their relationship.

"Shut your fucking pie hole before I shut it for you. You don't know shit about our relationship," Dean hissed, slamming Sam once more into the wall before releasing him.

The younger Winchester stared at his brother in equal parts annoyance and amusement. He opened his mouth, snarky reply nearly bursting from his lips as a low shriek interrupted their argument. Dean pushed past his younger brother, their previous conversation far from his mind as he motioned for Sam to stay in the kitchen; he'd go see what was wrong with Cas.

Apprehension quickly replaced his anger as the hunter reached the closed door. Bursting into the room, Dean beheld the strange sight of a former angel writhing in bed sheets, screaming at a product of his imagination. Strange as it was to imagine Castiel with an imagination, Dean couldn't help but wonder what would send him into a frenzy.

Another shout tore itself from his lips, and Dean sprang into action. He jostled Cas' shoulder, verbally consoling the former angel as he awoke from his slumber with the knowledge that it was all just a dream, that everything was fine. Cas jolted awake, blinking confusedly up at Dean before flinging his arms around the hunter. Awkwardly, Dean sunk closer to him and returned the favor, straining to listen to the words tumbling quietly into the silence. After a moment of waiting, he finally began to understand the rambling.

"It wasn't all a dream, Dean. It wasn't a dream."

Dean shuddered, ashamed of himself and grieved by the knowledge of Cas' pain. He tightened the embrace and internally kicked himself. All this time, Sam had been right, he was repulsed by the angel's newfound humanity, his hand in permanently crippling his celestial friend, but how much more so would Castiel be? It was a complete downgrade, to fall from angelic grace into murky humanity.

"I'm sorry, Cas. I'm so sorry."

* * *

Two weeks passed with little change. Dean and Sam acted as though their altercation didn't exist as they assisted Castiel; however, the tension was palpable, an annoying, tangible presence that everyone felt.

To make matters worse, Castiel withdrew from more serious topics. Whenever he could sense that Dean was trying to start a conversation about his reoccurring nightmares or their time in Purgatory, the former angel ignored all advances or changed the conversation. He never fled from Dean physically, though he didn't allow Dean anything else.

For all of his silence, Cas didn't want to be alone. He clung to Dean's presence far more than what was expected, though the hunters quickly grew used to the strange dynamic. It was odd, to see the former angel earthbound, to watch him flee mentally rather than physically. The elder hunter drew comfort in Cas' presence, suffering through the guilt in favor of the knowledge that Cas was, if nothing else, alive.

During the two weeks, they didn't go on a single hunt. They had their hands full as it was, dealing with a newly-mortal angel; adding a hunt to the mix would be too much. Sam, however, grew antsier with every day passing as more and more strange absences and/or murders came to his attention.

The younger Winchester currently sat on the chair beside the couch, laptop resting atop his thighs as he sighed and peered closer at the screen. Dean sat on the couch, Cas right beside him, their arms touching as the former angel fiddled with the remote and Dean stared at the screen, a rerun of Dr. Sexy M.D. providing decent, if not overdramatic, background noise.

Dean, of course, knew exactly why his brother was sighing, and it grated on his nerves. If Sam wanted to go on a hunt, what was there to stop him?

"You wouldn't mind me working alone?" Sam asked as Dean vocalized his question.

Dean replied in the negative, and that was that. Within the hour, Sam left for Arkansas, and Dean and Castiel were all by themselves, side-by-side on a dilapidated couch with an overdramatic soap opera blaring in the background. Immediately, Dean saw the error of his ways.

They hadn't been properly alone since the day Dean had found Cas, human and lost in Bobby's home, and neither of them knew what to do. Or, to clarify, Dean was absolutely lost and Castiel just continued to stare at the screen, actually paying attention to one of the new interns weeping pathetically about how much they loved Dr. Sexy...

Dean shifted on the couch, suddenly unable to stomach the inane drivel filling the silence. Surely Cas would want to talk when it was just the two of them.

"Cas," Dean began as he lowered the volume. "We need to talk."

Cas glanced at the hunter apprehensively but made no move to stop him.

"Is everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be? We're resting in Bobby's home, I'm human, and Sam is off hunting by himself."

"Cas, we're doing our best to help you," Dean replied, unsure of the sincerity of his words. With anyone else, he would've immediately interpreted their words as sarcasm, but he wasn't sure with Cas. For the first time in years, Dean had no idea how to interact with Castiel.

"And I appreciate it, but you don't have to stop hunting entirely. Coddling me will only hurt you in the long run. I can help you hunt, if you'd let me. I want to be a hunter, like you and Sam."

Dean didn't know how to reply to Cas' request. It would be nice to have an extra set of hands, but Dean worried about how his humanity would factor into the equation. He almost replied in the negative, but then those big blue eyes were pinning him with a painfully hopeful gaze, and he relented.

The result was the widest grin the hunter had ever seen on Cas' face, and warmth stirred within him at the sight. His concern melted away as he found himself smiling in return. If Castiel could still find joy despite falling so low, maybe there was hope after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Those two weeks may have sped by for Dean Winchester, but for Castiel, those weeks felt like centuries. There was so much to learn, so much to process and analyze and enact. In retrospect, the newly minted human might have overreacted, might have over-exaggerated this experience, but he could do that sort of thing now. Exaggerate, emphasize, explode. He was human, after all.

Human. The word that once brought fondness to his celestial being now brought bile to his human throat. Admiring creatures from afar was one thing, being ripped away from an existence beyond their wildest imagination and thrust into their restrictive, smelly, dirty, aptly-named "meat suits" was another thing entirely. Humans didn't want to be shoved into a statue, even if they thought it was the grandest thing they'd ever seen, so why did they assume that an angel (or anything for that matter) wanted to be purely human?

If anyone had been the most inclined to the insanity of falling, of truly experiencing humanity, it would've been Castiel, and even he loathed the experience.

There was nothing worse for an angel to be than useless. Castiel had always served a purpose, always had a mission and the means to accomplish whatever tasks were assigned to him. Now, he could offer little assistance to the hunters; he had always felt separate from humanity, their communication bizarrely complex and lifestyles bewilderingly cluttered, but he'd always thought that it was due to his species. Falling hadn't granted enlightenment; rather, it fueled his confusion.

The worst part was, he knew exactly what his brethren would say about the situation (or, at least, how they would react before they hated him).

"Our Father never inflicted anything upon His creatures that they couldn't handle," they'd say as they left him to wallow in the dung of mortality alone. Once upon a time, the former angel would've listened to them, would've accepted their decree without question and immersed himself into the mortal world.

It was a load of crap, Castiel now believed. Finally, he could truly understand Dean's strong reactions to his previous quotations of Scripture, and look at what little good it did him.

Castiel had learned, sans mortals and gods, the basics of humanity quickly after exiting Purgatory. The mechanics of existing weren't entirely lost on him, given his extensive observation of the entrancing, if not inferior, race, though the motions of mortality were easier seen than done. Despite this, his encounter with the Winchesters had, in his mind, been sweetened slightly with the knowledge that his presence wouldn't be as bothersome as it would've been had he been completely ignorant.

Even if he had been ignorant, he wouldn't have been a burden on them for long. Quite frankly, Castiel was surprised that he continued to be accepted, continued to remain stagnant.

Surprised. Frustrated. Elated. Depressed. Exhausted. Confused. Infuriated.

Why couldn't humans pick an emotion and stick with it? Why must everything be a jumble, a melting pot of various compositions?

And why was he constantly compelled to be near Dean? Castiel prided himself on not being an overly dependent being, both as an angel and a human, but he had one vice, and that was his desire to stay by Dean. It was comforting, knowing that the man, once his charge, was safe and sound. It was a weakness Castiel couldn't bring himself to expunge.

He had, however, expected the hunter to complain about "personal space," but those comments never surfaced, even if Dean was uncomfortable. The exclamations, though meager in existence, ceased completely once Castiel unwillingly stooped to humanity's level. Was his behavior suddenly rectified by his mortality?

Regardless, it made leaving a nearly impossible feat. Both Winchester brothers were strangely welcoming, despite his weakness. He was weighing them down, though, and he knew it.

The two weeks were agonizing in that Castiel spent his time in constant terror, that he would finally find it in his being to flee from perhaps the most welcoming atmosphere he'd felt in centuries, that he would finally be excommunicated from the group after one too many mistakes.

He spent his time getting used to the onslaught of not one emotion but several all at once. It was overwhelming enough, finding that humans not only felt emotions with the strength of an angel, but it was almost too much to bear when he found that their emotional capacity didn't just equal an angel's; rather, they exceeded their angelic counterparts. Human emotions seemed to have lives of their own; they erupted into blistering light or gaping darkness spontaneously, triggered by the mundane or extraordinary. Sometimes he felt merely to combat another feeling, and sometimes he felt merely to feel, to prove his empathy, though for what he never knew.

What Castiel did know was simple: if the Winchester brothers caught wind of his plight, he'd be cast away before he could blink.

Oh, to be an angel again. To be in control of his surroundings, his time with the brothers, his emotions, his strength. To be free of the nightmares that plagued him daily, his memories distorted into weapons of the night, cutting into his being with the power of an archangel blade.

Thankfully, his time with the Winchesters taught him how to conceal emotions. That was the only explanation for his continued residence, wasn't it? It had to have been; he of all people knew the levels of avoidance they took to controlling and concealing their feelings. He understood why, of course, but he knew better than to assume that they would stomach his issues.

No, when the angel fled (and flee he would), it would be under his terms, under his control. Castiel would sever ties as cleanly as possible. He'd-

"Cas," Dean interrupted, "we need to talk."

The hunter's declaration ripped Castiel from his musings and sent him into a panic. Had Dean finally figured out his weakness? Castiel should've known this would happen, should've paid more attention to his surroundings, should've donned a stronger mask. He should've known this was coming; Sam's abrupt departure was warning enough. It was as subtle as a bull in a china shop.

The former angel could only stare at the hunter and hope he remained composed throughout the whole ordeal.

"Is everything okay?"

_What? Was he serious? _"Why wouldn't it be? We're resting in Bobby's home, I'm human, and Sam is off hunting by himself," Castiel replied. _It was just like old times._

"Cas, we're doing our best to help you."

Bitter scorn stung Castiel. Were they, really? If they were doing their best, they would've seen though his façade long ago. Confusion arose from his contempt; did Castiel want them to discover his weakness or not?

"And I appreciate it," (_did I?) _"but you don't have to stop hunting entirely. Coddling me will only hurt you in the long run." _(Was that really what I'd call their treatment? Coddling?)_ "I can help you hunt, if you'd let me. I want to be a hunter, like you and Sam."

Dean paused, his reluctance a tangible presence, a third party of awkwardness, before it melted away completely. The hunter nodded, rendered mute by forces beyond Castiel's comprehension. Despite his friend's hesitation, the former angel was elated, and he allowed the emotion to surface. It was perhaps the first time he'd truly expressed himself in two weeks, and he couldn't help but mourn the moments, past and future, that had to be stifled.

He'd almost forgotten how _good _Dean could make him feel.

His display of emotion resulted in a smile from the hunter, whose impossibly green eyes twinkled with mirth and hope. The irritating (and certainly inaccurate) hospital soap opera was long forgotten; all Castiel could do was bask in the pathetically meager yet impossibly meaningful moment of affection. He hadn't felt this accepted, this believed in, for decades. He didn't want to let it go.

Eventually, though, the smiles dropped and eyes wandered, Castiel's toward the screen. Dean's gaze was no longer something the angel could see; it burned into him with a startling intensity, though whether it was still fixed on him or just a figment of his imagination was unknown to Castiel.

And he really didn't want to know which it was.

* * *

The evening faded softly into night with gentle orange rays beaming into the room, though neither man moved from the couch; their attention centered in a realm seemingly separate from time's relentless grip. There was no reason to remove themselves from their current situation, not when the room was blanketed in peace and the silence wasn't demanding to be filled. The television's empty babble was a gentle haze, one that mixed beautifully with the peaceful silence, lending air the unfathomable stillness of the ocean.

For that brief time, the tethers of their world were loosened completely. Hunters, angels, demons, monsters, empty childhoods; all vanished as the sun slowly descended from the cloudless skies.

Silence fell, accompanied by vulnerable entities unknown to either beings, as darkness and exhaustion lulled them into familiar defenselessness.

* * *

_Running, always running, Running and falling and running and falling. Over and over again, across dimensions and time. Lost, lost, lost, but that was what always happened to creatures that rejected holiness. _

_Castiel shouldn't be so unfamiliar with this feeling. _

_He couldn't help it though; he couldn't help being bewildered by this need, this unfathomable longing. _

_Over and over again, he fell. Over and over again, he searched for that which eluded his mind but not his spirit, if the descent into mortality granted him such. Over and over again, he balked at the cusp of success and fell. _

_If only- _

A deafening yell shattered Castiel's nightmare, and for a brief, panic-filled moment, he feared the sound to be his. Relief would've overwhelmed the former angel had he not immediately identified the interruption as Dean's, had he not immediately identified the cause of the interruption as a nightmare.

Before Castiel could decide whether or not to wake the hunter, Dean's eyes flashed open as he jerked awake. Dean's shudders shook the couch as he panted heavily, eyes boring into the television before them. His heavy breathing intermingled with the soft babbling of the television, creating an entirely different atmosphere, one that set Castiel on edge.

"Are you okay?"

Dean recoiled as he finally acknowledged Castiel's presence, "Jesus Christ," he cursed. "Man you have got to stop watching me sleep. It's beyond creepy now that you're human." Dean stood from the couch and stretched lazily, resolutely avoiding Castiel's annoyed stare. The former angel was well aware of the emotional defenses Dean employed during moments such as these, but he couldn't restrain his own furious defensiveness.

"My 'creepy' behavior has saved your life numerous times. Maybe instead of griping about me, you should guard yourself better," Castiel snapped. "We fell asleep on this couch, and _your_ nightmare woke me up."

"If only your burden on us was as light as your sleeping."

There it was. Castiel knew it all along, knew it was only a matter of time before the truth got out. He only wished he'd had a little more time, but since when did anything go smoothly for him? He should've known that there was no such thing as a clean break, especially when it came to the Winchesters.

Castiel nodded once and roughly shoved past Dean as he left the living room. He needed to get away, needed to flee before anger damaged their friendship irreparably.

"And, for the record, I wasn't the only one having a nightmare."

If Dean thought that was going to bring Castiel back, the hunter was sorely mistaken. Rather than capture Castiel, the reminder merely finalized his decision to leave. His weakness was no longer a secret to the hunter, and it was highly unlikely that it would be tolerated. The angel swiftly entered his room and gathered his few belongings, shoving them roughly into a worn backpack.

"And now he's fleeing. Surprise, surprise," Dean said as he leaned against the doorframe. "Thought maybe since you were human, you'd stop doing that, but I should've known better."

Castiel regretted not packing his belongings sooner; it was foolish to keep up appearances when the situation was anything but murky.

"And I should've known that you'd go back on your word, considering you've done that plenty of times, but I trusted you anyways," Castiel replied. His hands shook as he zipped the bag.

"Well, how can I keep my word when you're always leaving?"

"Dean Winchester, you always blame everyone else for your problems. You never take responsibility for your actions. If you did, perhaps you'd understand why I'm leaving." Castiel moved toward the door, and Dean straightened, blocking the angel.

"Cut the crap, Castiel. I know you better than anyone else, and you leaving is cowardice, pure and simple."

Castiel fought against the warmth that stirred within him at the hunter's words and focused on the bitter taste of the lies he'd told. Bitterness, that's what he needed, not warmth.

"Why are you always so eager to leave?" Dean asked. "Why didn't you come to us right away after Purgatory?"

"Why do you think, Dean? I was an angel, as you love to point out. I had a purpose; I had power. Now, I have nothing. All I am to you is a burden, and I don't want to be a burden. It was foolish of me to stay this long with you." Castiel tried to move past Dean, but the hunter caught his arms in a tight grip.

"You're really not-"

"If you say 'not a burden,' I will smite you," Castiel interrupted as he fought against Dean's hold. He longed for his grace, longed for the ability to flee instantaneously, though a small part of him didn't mind his current predicament.

"You said you wanted to be a hunter; I could show you how," Dean argued.

"When, in another two weeks? Dean, I am sick of waiting, for you, for Heaven, for God. I am so sick and tired of being a burden or a pawn. You call me family, but you treat me like garbage. The only thing I am more sick of than waiting is hypocrisy, and here, I've got both."

"Yeah, well, you aren't exactly a saint either. You complain about waiting for me, but I've been waiting for you, too. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on. I don't want you to leave, and I won't wait to help you if you stay, but you gotta meet me halfway. You can't shut me out anymore," Dean pleaded.

Castiel stared into Dean's eyes, searching for signs of deception and finding none. Briefly, he wondered if Dean saw the emotions overwhelming him. Shame. Regret. Hope. Wonder.

"I thought you were adverse to 'chick-flick moments.'"

Dean grinned. "There's an exception to every rule, Cas."

Castiel allowed his lips to stretch into a smile, his relief masking trepidation. He was thankful they'd talked, no matter how strange it felt; the sting of the insults and nightmare not entirely expunged, though they were dulled by hope.

Maybe, just maybe, he could finally stop running.


End file.
